Consolation
by Dana E. Vassy
Summary: Post Erlenmeyer Flask - Mulder and Scully are in need of some mutual comfort


Title: Consolation  
Author: Dana E. Vassy  
Category: MSR  
Rating: PG.-13 for references  
Disclaimer: Once upon a time a very talented man created a   
show that became known as 'The X-Files'. Lots of other   
people wisely secured their legal rights in the venture,   
namely big scary companies like 1013 and Fox. It is mooted   
in certain circles that the characters mentioned forthwith   
also belong to the talented actors Gillian Anderson, David   
Duchovny and Mitch Pileggi. It is submitted by this author   
that all these generous and understanding entities will let   
me borrow their property on the condition I give it back   
unharmed. I submit that we know have what laymen refer to   
as a 'deal'. How's that for a legal disclaimer? Cha cha   
cha  
Spoilers: Erlenmeyer Flask, Darkness Falls, Pilot.  
Distribution: You want, you get. But only if you tell me   
where it's going first.  
  
Consolation  
* * * * * * *  
Scully took a moment to let the news sink in. Back to   
Quantico? Not that she had anything against the place, she   
loved it; but she had felt that her place was with Mulder -   
on the X-Files. Instead of replacing the handset, she hit   
speed dial one.   
  
"Mulder.." he answered after about four rings.  
  
"Mulder, it's me" she breathed. "Are you sure you're   
okay?"  
  
"To be honest, no, I'm not. But I'm used to getting kicked   
in the teeth when it comes to looking for the truth. I'll   
survive"  
  
"Hmm, you wanna talk? You're welcome to come over. I'm   
not likely to get back to sleep anytime soon, and to be   
honest I'd be glad of the company."  
  
"Well...sure. Why not? You want me to bring anything?"  
  
"You could see if there's anywhere open that sells ice   
cream, for example that 24 hour place two blocks from here"  
  
"Ah, Ms Scully, I do believe I sense an ulterior motive"  
  
"Me? Never...but make sure you get Choc Chip Cookie   
Dough.."  
  
"See you in a while then, ice cream monster." As he hung   
up, Scully was glad she heard a smile returning to his   
voice.  
  
The place was spotlessly tidy as ever, so Scully debated   
changing out of her pyjamas. But the blue silk was   
comfortable in the clammy night, and apart from that there   
was very little point. Instead, she headed for the kitchen   
to see if she had anything interesting.   
  
Finding nothing more than unopened Diet Coke she decided to   
make do, so she headed back to make the living room a   
little more homely. In the midst of plumping the cushions,   
she stopped suddenly. What the hell was she doing? It was   
Mulder coming over. Her colleague and friend. So why   
exactly was she making such an effort? Her subconscious   
chimed in asking if it should be the bedroom she attended   
to instead. Dismissing the thought out of hand, Scully   
turned on the stereo and searched for a suitable CD. It   
appeared the only music she possessed was either operatic   
or pathetically romantic. And she didn't want to create   
the wrong impression. Or did she? Finally she settled on   
Bon Jovi's 'Crossroads' album. A little slushy in places,   
but safe enough.   
  
As she waited for a knock on the door, her unexplained   
nerves were replaced by nausea. After she had tried so   
hard, she was effectively being demoted. Not to put too   
fine a point on it - it sucked. And any setback made her   
think of her late father, and a pang of guilt about   
'letting him down'. Had he been right all along? Was she   
kidding herself to think that she could make anyone proud   
by chasing aliens and ghost stories? It was on this note   
she answered the door to Mulder.  
  
She must have looked wholly terrible, because when he saw   
her, he dropped his bag and swept her into a bear hug.   
Scully allowed herself to sink into the soft fabric of his   
jacket for a moment, before breaking away to retort:  
  
"You damage my ice cream, I damage you."  
  
With a grin , Mulder headed into the kitchen for spoons.   
Immediately, he seemed at home here. Easy Scully, if you   
want a house decoration, buy an ornament. Besides, Mulder   
had a knack of making himself welcome anywhere when it   
suited him to. He returned, brandishing the cutlery as a   
trophy and Scully ushered him into the living room.  
  
She hit play on the stereo. Turning round, she saw Mulder   
sprawled out on her neatly arranged couch. And then he   
took the lid off the *solitary* tub of Ben & Jerry's.   
Catching her glare, he squirmed childishly.  
  
"This is the only kind I like. I thought a whole tub would   
be too sickly for you."  
  
"Oh, how little you know.."  
  
"I know you better than you think, Dana Scully"  
  
A loaded silence passed between them, with only Jon Bon   
Jovi's velvet tones disturbing the quiet.   
  
"So, Mulder. Have you worked out what you're, what we're   
going to do?"  
  
He took a moment before explaining that there was nothing   
else for it but getting his head down, and reestablish   
enough credibility to have the X-Files reopened. Wire-  
tapping was deathly boring, but he knew the would never   
throw him the bone of a return to the VCU. As for her, he   
only hoped they would disassociate her from the debacle and   
let her have the career she deserved.  
  
But Scully could not turn her back now. Even though   
Mulder's zany beliefs contrasted with her scientific base,   
they made a good team. Yes, they rarely had conclusive   
reports to their cases, but these situations could only   
ever be solved by troupers like themselves breaking it down   
piece by piece. That was what Scully loved most about   
their work - it was one big puzzle for her highly   
analytical mind. Only problem now was that her analyst   
skills were devoting themselves to the proximate form of   
Fox Mulder. Why did he want to share the ice cream? Why   
was he wearing aftershave at this late hour? It was   
obviously a fresh application.  
  
Tiring of the huge dilemma, Scully turned the conversation   
to more general topics. On hearing that her brothers had   
forced her into being a Knicks fan, Mulder solemnly swore   
to take her to the next possible game. She rolled her   
eyes, and almost laughed at the sincerity in his 'Sad Sam'   
expression. And she realised how Mulder had been able to   
worm his way out of so much trouble - who could resist   
someone with the charm of an angelic toddler, and the looks   
of a film star? Scully wasn't sure she could.  
  
As the CD wound to a halt, Mulder got up to turn on the TV   
("Not the only thing he's turning on" taunted her   
subconscious.) Flicking through her limited channels, he   
settled on CNN. Pictures of New York flashed across the   
screen - no surprise that there was something happening   
there. With the sound low, Mulder returned to the couch   
and casually draped his arm along its back. Scully had   
turned her attention to the Ben & Jerry's, playfully   
swatting away the advances of Mulder's spoon. As the baby   
girl of the family, she was not accustomed to sharing.   
  
Twenty minutes later saw a jacketless Mulder, an empty ice   
cream tub, and Scully's weary head in Mulder's lap. It had   
looked so inviting, and her initial rage had been replaced   
with subdued reminiscing. Lying there, so trusting of him   
was a huge feat for Scully. And at the same time it seemed   
so natural, as though it had always been this way.  
  
She thought of Jack and the memories that would dog a   
return to Quantico. She remembered her father, and the   
resolution that he was in fact, proud of her. Scully cast   
her mind back to the day of the funeral, the affectionate   
touches and warm sympathy from Mulder. Then, she was aware   
of lean fingers stroking her temple, out towards the   
hairline. It was the same gesture her mother had used to   
comfort the young and easily upset Dana Scully. Now Mulder   
was using the same movement without prompting, and it felt   
so different. A very pleasant form of different - almost   
territorial. As though Mulder was claiming her as his to   
protect. And for once, her feminist principles did not   
incite a revolt.  
  
All too suddenly, the light touches stopped. Scully sat up   
in surprise. She found Mulder gazing at her. No other   
word for it, just gazing. Her throat dried, and not a   
single word in the English language seemed appropriate.   
The electricity from his caresses had built a certain   
frenzy between them. Scully hardly dared to believe it, as   
Mulder's face moved yet closer to her own.  
  
Their lips met.   
  
How sweet, how tender his lips were. No urgency, yet a   
huge release of passion passed between their united mouths.   
The pace and depth of the kisses increased as they drew   
closer to each other, pressing their bodies tighter   
together. Scully held back momentarily. The look in   
Mulder's eyes told her everything - this was allowed to   
happen. Yet she still felt a rush of forbidden pleasure   
course through her. It was akin to the high of smoking her   
mother's cigarettes in secret, only now it was a pure and   
perfect type of excitement.  
  
Barely noticing the transition, Scully found herself being   
lain on her unmade bed. As her pyjama top landed on the   
floor, she understood that a change in circumstances could   
be a positive thing. When Mulder's bottoms joined her top,   
she was certain of the value of development. When one door   
slams shut in your face, another one opens...  
  
FINIS  



End file.
